


Dragon Bait

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gladiatorial combat, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Mindwiping, Slavery, fucked up black dragonflight family relations, sex worker Crocbait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4249305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabellian notices something strange about one of the gladiators Samia dragged him to see in the Circle of Blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so sorry to the character tag wranglers. So sorry. Notes on my usage of "Crocbait", "Lo'gosh" and "Varian" - all names referring, in part or in whole or at different points in time, to the same person - are at the end of the story.
> 
> Sabellian and Crocbait, at this time in the story, both use "he" pronouns and possess penises.
> 
> Smut doesn't start 'til chapter 2.

This was absurd. He’d made as much clear to Samia when she’d suggested it might cheer him up after the numerous abject failures that had peppered his week thus far, mostly on the part of people other than himself. He stayed by the arena because of its geographical position, and the protection the surrounding syndicate offered from the ogres, while not themselves being political players in the area. Not because he enjoyed watching mortals spill one another’s blood. That was his brother’s sort of nonsense; no, they had a  _ problem _ to be focussing on right now, and couldn’t afford to be distracted by this sort of drivel.

And yet… Baron Sablemane frowned, leaning forward just the smallest amount in his seat. And yet.

The sands of the arena floor weren’t far from where he and Samia were sat. And upon them, in between the various poles and crates laid out by way of obstacles and cover, were six gladiators who were to do battle. Five of them were largely unremarkable - the Outland team, two Broken draenei and an ogre Sabellian didn’t care for; then the Azeroth team. Some brute of a night elf with antlers from his head and a nose broken more times than he’d seen a bath; and a mere child of a blood elf who he had no idea how she had been allowed to compete to begin with.

And… him.

The third member of the Azeroth team - a sash of bright yellow tied over his shoulder to designate which of the two teams he belonged to, and his attire otherwise drab. His face was… anything but, the Baron was loathe to admit. He was, for a gladiator,  _ absurdly  _ handsome. Straight angles made up his nose, his jawline, his cheekbones, and none were interrupted by scars. Long, thick hair framed it all, tied back in a high tail for the most part. A few unruly locks of it strayed in front of his eyes consistently, the plated headpiece around his forehead doing little to tame them. This trait about him, in particular, suggested he hadn’t fought many battles in his life before - any mortal who  _ had  _ would long have broken his nose and cut his hair.

Yet the way he lead his team said quite otherwise. He consistently made up for the night elf’s reckless charges; for the blood elf’s rookie mistakes. Shouting in that ugly language they liked to use in the Eastern Kingdoms, it wasn’t clear how much of his successful leadership was to do with what he was  _ saying _ and how much was to do with strategic implementation of distractions and misdirections to  _ both _ teams. The Baron’s brows furrowed deeper. Surely he couldn’t be  _ relating _ to the man; making up for his teammates’ incompetence for the entirety of the match.

Of which they were victorious, of course. Of course they were. Baron Sablemane sat up straighter in his seat and craned his neck to watch as the human waved for the night elf to scoop the blood elf off the sands - she’d broken her leg or somesuch - and carry her back to the gates. He did no victory lap; no sword raised victorious in the air. He simply lead them back to--

\--Sabellian’s eyes widened, and he almost forgot he was supposed to be disguised as a mortal and not simply shapeshifted as a humanoid dragon, as he suddenly recognised why his attention had been drawn to this human to begin with.

He’d recognise the blight of his sister’s magic  _ anywhere _ .

Scrambling to his feet and pushing his way out of the stands, heedless of the other patrons’ angry yelps as he shoved them aside or of Samia’s crying out after him, he ran down to the entranceway - then around to the back of the arena, where the caged gladiators would be kept in preparation for  _ whatever they did between matches _ , he didn’t  _ care _ . His  _ sister _ was here! After all these years, she  _ dare _ show her face, that horrible magic of hers--! Did she have news, dare he ask it, of Father’s return? Tossing Sabellian aside on this wretched, dead world to try and sustain his brood in the face of Gruul’s brutality - what had Father been thinking?! No word from the homeworld for  _ decades _ and now  _ this _ ! His  _ Titan-cursed  _ _** sister ** _ !

His eyes ablaze with his fury, the guards at the gates of the holding pens seemingly knew better than to stop his purposeful march. It seemed one orc slavedriver  _ didn’t _ , however.

He had a wolfskin helm and pauldrons of the same design, and that’s all Sabellian cared to notice about him before barking a command. “Get out of my way.”  
The orc tilted his head. “You don’t belong back here.”  
Sabellian sucked in a breath, then let it out  _ slowly _ . He’d had just about  _ enough  _ of dealing with mortals before Samia had even dragged him here, and now this one was being insolent to him? Oh, if his tiny mind could comprehend what manner of creature he was speaking to…

But _Sabellian’s_ mind wasn’t filled with mad fury. He could control himself. So he did.  
“That human from the last match,” he said, raising his voice only to compete with the cheers from inside the arena as the next match began. “I must see him.”  
The orc laughed. “Yes, Crocbait’s quite popular. Was it his brooding, or his flowing locks?”  
“I’m not here for his  _ looks _ ,” Sabellian spat. “I just need to see him.”

The orc’s expression was invisible under his mask, but he sighed shortly, and Sabellian took it for exasperation. “How long for.”  
“I don’t know. A few hours.” Irritation curled in the Baron’s gut, but he didn’t let it take hold.  
“Hmph. Here’s my suggestion, then. Crocbait may not be a free man, but he gets paid for the performances he puts on. You pay me what I’ll be losing by letting him put on another one today, and we’ll have a deal.”  
“You want paying,” Sabellian said skeptically.  
“Yes.” There was no wriggle-room left in the orc’s statement.

Sabellian  _ glared _ . “I’ll be back,” he said, shaking his finger and turning on his heel to stalk off. “Don’t leave!”

It didn’t take him long to summon the right combination of pretty trinkets and gems from beneath the Blade’s Edge, given that it was once a rather geologically active area. So he returned to the orc within the hour with various shiny things to throw at him. And it worked, too.  _ Mortals. _

The orc - a shaman, apparently, judging by how he’d appraised the gemstones - went to the cage himself, unlocked it, and beckoned for the human. And then Sabellian got another good look at him.

Being up-close didn’t hurt his appearance at all. He was a little taller than Sabellian was in his current form, though of course no match for his true one; his hair soaked down with the water of the recent wash he’d apparently taken, but no less unruly for it. He’d obviously pulled his tattered shirt back on with some haste, because while dry for the most part, it was sticking to his damp chest where it touched. And, yes; he was rather muscular indeed, especially for a full-blooded human. One had to wonder if he had not a little of the older bloodlines in him.

And… yes. The closer he got, the more distinctive it was. The stench of his sister’s magic surrounded this human;  _ invaded _ him. It seemed intertwined with his very being. Just what manner of creature  _ was _ this? And what manner of ruin was Sabellian inviting by taking him into his custody, for however short a time...?

“Have him back by sunrise at the latest,” his orc master said, as he loosened - but didn’t remove - the chains connecting “Crocbait”’s wrists and neck to one another. “Though he’ll loathe you to return him much earlier.”

Sabellian frowned. “I said I’m just going to look at him.”  
The human and the orc looked at one another, then at Sabellian. Though nothing was said, Sabellian got the nasty feeling they were reading some completely different intentions into his actions than the ones he truly had in mind.

Nonetheless. Perhaps that was for the best. Sabellian seized the human’s chains and, without so much as thanking the orc who was apparently his master, tugged him off in the direction of his lodgings.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crocbait gets to know the strange man who demanded to meet him after witnessing him fighting in the Circle of Blood.

Crocbait had to admit it. He had been expecting something grander.

As it was, the strange, brightly-robed man had lead him to a relatively plain hut of two rooms. The second room was one he couldn’t see through into clearly - but through the beaded curtain, he caught a glance of cages, and of a large and complex alchemy bench. And the room they were in now…

Ugh. Crocbait usually accepted these liaisons in the hopes of a warm bed, some clean clothes, and a hot meal. Didn’t look like he had much chance of getting any of that here. He grit his teeth and squared his jaw as the man grabbed his shoulders, callous but not rough, and placed him where he wanted him to stand.

He was short. Rich, dark skin that was just starting to show lines of age. Long hair which tangled against the collar of his robe at the back. Not unhandsome in the face. Depending on how he behaved, Crocbait might even end up enjoying this.

And he was obviously some kind of spellcaster, because there were no practical elements to his clothing at all. As the shorter man scowled and walked around to Crocbait’s back, he wondered what on Azeroth he had in mind for the night. Or on Outland.

“Who sent you,” the man eventually said.  
Crocbait knew better than to respond. He was here in chains, after all. Not to have a conversation.  
But - “answer me,” the man snapped, impatient.  
“No one sent me,” Crocbait finally responded, now he’d been given permission to speak. “I didn’t choose to come here. I thought the chains gave that away.”

He was expecting to be struck and ordered back into silence. Such was the life of a slave, he guessed; he might be choosing this particular action by his free will, but his situation was otherwise. Yet the man didn’t respond. He came back to Crocbait’s front, grabbed his face, and there they went into the kiss, that’s what Crocbait expected--

\--but no, he was just looking at his face. Just. Looking. Like he’d said.

Crocbait tried not to frown. This was… weird, even by the standards of his life so far.

“You stink of her magic,” the man eventually said. “Did she send you? Or are you just a by-product of her wretched presence?”

Crocbait arched one eyebrow, then snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Don’t lie to me,” the man growled - and Crocbait caught a flash of fang, a glow of the eye. So this man wasn’t as human as he appeared. Right. And maybe Rehgar would have to find yet another replacement for Bloodeye before they made it back to Kalimdor tomorrow.  
“Not lying,” he said, shrinking his face back a bit - and the man suddenly released his hold on it, turning his back and dusting his hands off. “Didn’t Rehgar tell you? No memories.”

The strange man breathed out, then turned back to face Crocbait with far less of an accusatory scowl on his face. The expression still wasn’t one Crocbait _liked_. But it was better. “Definitely one of hers,” he muttered, looking over Crocbait again. “How long have you been like this, ah…”  
“Crocbait,” he prompted.  
“...Crocbait,” the man drawled, obviously unimpressed with the name. “How long have you been like this.”  
He shrugged noncommittally. “Couple years, I guess.”  
“And none of your memories have returned?”  
“One. None since then.” He’d long since come to terms with his own condition, but this… man, whatever he was, seemed troubled anew by the matter.

“Take off that ridiculous shirt,” he suddenly prompted.

Crocbait shrugged, and did so. The clothes they wore while in the pens were designed so they could be removed over the restraints they wore. He did this and let it drop to the ground by his side, his damp hair dripping down his bruised back where previously it had been soaking into the cloth.

But far from, _again_ , as Crocbait had expected, going in for the kiss or to touch his chest or something, the man simply looked. This time, he moved up and began casting a spell - the magic was purple, so Crocbait assumed Arcane, but he still didn’t like it. “Hey,” he piped up. “What are you doing?”  
“ _Looking_ ,” he growled, glaring up at the gladiator. “And you may call me Sablemane. Not ‘ _hey_ ’.”

“Fine, Sablemane.” He breathed out, slow, controlling his temper. “What are you doing.”

“Trying to get a better look at the spell on you,” he finally said. “That’s all I’ve been trying to do. I’m trying to _help_ you, idiot mortal.”  
“Yeah, uh. Most people who pay for my custody just want sex--”

He was interrupted by Sablemane choking on his own breath, having to lean on the countertop to the empty central table to keep himself upright. He hacked a few more coughs out before looking up at Crocbait with an incredulous look on his face. That, and a blush.  
“Wh-- _What_?”  
“--uh.” Crocbait blinked. He wasn’t expecting _that_ reaction. “I wanted to know if that was something you expected today, but I guess not.”  
“You guess correctly,” Sablemane said - though there was no vitriol to it. If anything, it came out a little flat. And that was explained further by what he said next. “Not _expect_ it. Never. I’m not my wretched sister.”

So it was some feud between them that Crocbait had found himself caught in, then. He’d fallen afoul of some witch, and now her equally wizardous brother was… what? Seeking to use him as an instrument of revenge?

“Then you won’t cast a spell on me again, either,” Crocbait said, firm. “I already had my mind wiped once; you say by magic, and my teammate and master both said the same. If your sister truly did this to me, then there’s no saying you wouldn’t do the same once more.”  
Sablemane regarded Crocbait flatly… but then the magic faded from his hands, and he dusted them off. “Fine,” he said. “But I can’t help you in that case.”  
“Don’t recall asking for it.”  
Sablemane faultered, then _flustered_ and busied himself abruptly with uselessly shunting various empty bottles and phials around one of the workdesks.

Crocbait took the time to look around the rest of the room in detail. It seemed to be a repurposed Mag’hari mud-hut. Workbenches and tables lined the room, but most of them were empty - evidently the bulk of Sablemane’s work went on in the other room. There were a few cupboards, an unlit fire-pit, a singular crate that looked like it was waiting to be moved next door, and a bed that was sized for orcs - so large, for humans. It was neatly made, apparently not used yet today.

Sablemane mumbled something under his breath in a language Crocbait didn’t recognise. And when he caught his eye by accident over his shoulder, he stopped whatever he was pretending to work on and simply gripped the edge of the table.  
“I said I can see why my sister wanted you,” he finally admitted.  
Right. “Is that your fucked-up way of saying you find me attractive?”  
Sablemane gripped the edge of the table tighter. “All I’m _saying_ is that for a human, you aren’t…”  
“...aren’t what?” Crocbait pushed, ever impatient and ever willing to test his limits when it came to disobeying his “masters”.  
“Look, _shut up_ ,” Sablemane snapped - and thought Crocbait stepped back and held his hands up, he couldn’t help but smirk too. It _was_ pretty funny how easily the pompous Sablemane got knocked from his social footing.

But the “order” he’d barked came out wet and uncertain, so Crocbait, perhaps foolishly, risked one more little push of the limits. His smirk widened. “Because if all you’re after is a porter to move that crate of yours into the other room, that’s something I can do too--”

And then all at once, Sablemane’s lips were crushing his.

This. This was far more like what he was used to. But he pressed his hand against Sablemane’s shoulder and broke the kiss, for just a moment. “I’m serious. I can do housework instead. We don’t have to do this.”  
“Shut _up_ ,” Sablemane growled again.  
“No. Serious.” His second hand came up to grip Sablemane’s other shoulder.

Sablemane _sighed_. But he seemed to understand the need. “Don’t think you’re goading me into this, Crocbait. I’ve had... a _very_ bad week.”  
Contrary to his impatient manner, Crocbait let the man speak. He didn’t seem _bad_. He did seem to have been trying to help him. And if he was telling the truth about his sister being responsible for this, then he might serve to be an important ally later.  
“I’m not letting anyone _else_ persuade me into something I’m not going to find useful. And failing _useful_ , it better be something I at least _enjoy_ ,” Sablemane continued - making eye contact with Crocbait. “Suffice it to say I’m doing this because I want to.”  
“Right.” It would be easy to find triumph in Sablemane’s statement, but Crocbait simply saw it for what it was - an honest statement of intent. And he appreciated the honesty - he didn’t know who he’d been before that he thought it so valuable, but it was something he hadn’t found much of since he began his new life. “Alright.”

So they kissed again; this time, meeting half way.

Sablemane was… hot. In the literal sense of the word. Every place his fingers touched along his already-bared abdomen felt like he’d lain on hot-rocks in bed; the other man traced Crocbait’s bruises, the scrapes and cuts that gladiatorial combat left on the body even in the most victorious of matches, and the fighter found himself struggling not to gasp into the kiss with each one. Steeled to pain though he was, he would never quite be used to having his wounds _teased_ like so many of his overnight clients seemed to enjoy doing.

The kiss itself was little different now they’d settled into it - Sablemane would press into it and nick Crocbait’s lip with his teeth, and in retaliation Crocbait would surge forward and push his tongue over Sablemane’s. While the other man’s hands continued scoping out his chest, Crocbait’s found Sablemane’s hair, gripping it and earning himself a shove back for doing so. But for all it might’ve seemed like a rejection, Sablemane followed him a moment later - and it was in the direction of the bed, too.

It took Crocbait a moment to get his behind parked on the bed and his legs swung up onto it. He really wished Rehgar would let him take the chains off completely for this; it was difficult to move around sometimes, and in truth, he needed them off as much as he did when he was fighting in the arena. But the inconvenience was relatively momentary. He lifted his hands above his head, then, as Sablemane lay down atop him, he was able to bring his hands down to rest around his neck - the chain draped across Sablemane’s clothed back. And then they could continue.

Which they did.

He didn’t know what manner of creature Sablemane was to cause such _heat_ everywhere the two of them were touching, but he certainly wasn’t human. Crocbait felt his pulse rising and his cheeks flushing under every hot kiss this strange man lay across his neck; every handprint he left across his chest, sliding his dextrous fingers down to pry at the gladiator’s plain belt. They both knew the way of it; Crocbait tipped his chin up, opening his throat to the robed man atop him as he bared his half-hard cock to the air, and then to his hand’s grip.

Ohhh. _Fuck_. He should’ve expected how those fingers of his would feel around his length, but somehow he hadn’t thought that far ahead, and he glanced down to see Sablemane with a maddeningly flat _smirk_ on that smug face of his at how quickly Crocbait had hardened under the simplest of touches. “Hm.” He slipped down out of the loose hug Crocbait had him in, to nest between his legs, and this time Crocbait knew to brace himself. He wouldn’t give Sablemane the satisfaction of catching him off-guard _twice_.

Still. He didn’t _need_ to catch him off-guard to make Crocbait gasp with his rough lips around his sensitive head. His tongue - bifurcated, _fuck_ , how did Crocbait not notice that when they were talking? - made _maddeningly_ slow rounds across it, his gloved hand pulling the foreskin back to give him more room to play. He tipped his head to lick up the side of his length, his long hair falling across Crocbait’s bared hip, his-- _literally impossibly_ hot breath teasing eddies across the wetted skin.

“Fuck,” Crocbait breathed. “You a ghost or something? You’re not human.”  
“Not a ghost,” Sablemane scoffed. But he didn’t deny his lack of humanity. Then before Crocbait had the chance to ask a follow-up question, he took his _not modest_ length into his throat. In its entirety.

Crocbait gripped his chains with both hands - pulling them taut between his wrists - and arched his back. It was all he could do not to cry out. He could feel the blood flooding his cheeks as much as it was his cock; spirits save him, whatever Sablemane was it felt like no-one else he’d had. His cock was usually _impractically_ large - only a certain kind of person liked to take it within their person, and most couldn’t get it the entire way in. Yet here was Sablemane, doing so like it was not a thing out of the ordinary. Boiling-hot throat wrapped snug around Crocbait’s head, the… _humanoid creature_ seeming in no discomfort from his inability to breathe around it.

It ended up being Crocbait who tapped out first. It was just too much to bear; he was sure the other man didn’t want him to finish _now_. He grabbed Sablemane’s hair and yanked it back, letting go after a moment so he could push himself upright. “What… what the hell was that?” he asked - far from disappointed or angry, it was more an expression of confusion. Almost amazement.  
“Breath charm,” Sablemane said nonchalantly, swiping a thumb across his lower lip.  
“Right,” Crocbait panted. That was… new. “Right.”

Sablemane didn’t give him much chance to think. The trousers came off altogether now. Sablemane pulled off his gloves, stashed them in his robe, then pulled out another item. A bottle.  
“Lube?” Crocbait asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.  
“Yes.” Sablemane stared at him flatly.  
“You want me on my front?”  
“...yes,” the other man said, frowning slightly. Crocbait raised an eyebrow, but did as he’d been “told”.

Moments later, fingers barely cooled by the liquid they were applying pressed against him. Though he bore up into the touch and relaxed himself for Sablemane, it only took him a few moments to realise something was the matter. His movements were repetitive and hesitant; like he didn’t know what he was doing, or like he wasn’t sure of it. It was a stark contrast to how confident he’d been about the blowjob. Crocbait didn’t like this.

“Hey,” he said - the heavy metal collar chafing at his neck as he turned to try and look at Sablemane’s face. “You okay?”  
“Fine,” he said, through gritted teeth - almost sounding irritated. But his hand stopped moving, the other resting atop Crocbait’s behind.  
“Sure?” It hurt, with the collar on, but he twisted far enough to make eye contact with the other man. Eye contact that wasn’t returned.

And moments later, sure enough, Sablemane pulled away completely.Crocbait stayed where he was for just a moment before sitting up and turning around to face the man.

He was massaging his temples, his eyes screwed shut. Crocbait waited until it seemed like he was ready to talk before opening his mouth again. He wasn’t adversed to silence.

“I _have_ done this before,” Sablemane eventually said. He sounded annoyed. Crocbait was smart enough to know it wasn’t with him.  
“Maybe it’s just not your thing,” he said with a shrug of one shoulder.  
Sablemane _glared_ at him, and there was fire enough in it that Crocbait wondered if he wasn’t sleeping with an actual fire elemental. But it faded into defeat only moments later. Sablemane knew he was right.  
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t--”  
“This is ridiculous!” Sablemane suddenly snapped, curling his hands into fists in his lap. “I _know_ I’m attracted to men! Even horrible mortal ones like you! What am I doing _wrong_?!”  
Crocbait held his hands up in mock surrender at the insult, but didn’t bite back. “Maybe you’re just on the wrong side of things.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean,” Sablemane growled. Ever impatient, this one.  
“Maybe you just don’t like topping.” Crocbait gave his one-shouldered shrug again. “I could try topping _you_ if you wanted. Though the chains don’t make it easy.”  
“That wretched orc should’ve taken them off entirely,” Sablemane muttered.  
“Yeah, try telling him that. Like I haven’t a thousand times,” Crocbait smirked.  
Sablemane shook his head. “Fine. We will make do.”

Crocbait thought for a moment, then slipped himself off the bed and gestured for Sablemane to take his place where he’d been, lying back against the pillows. He did so, regarding Crocbait with something that might seem like arrogance at first. He knew better. It was fear; uncertainty. Both things Crocbait didn’t like in his sexual partners.

He moved to take his place over Sablemane, but tilted his head at the way the man’s brows furrowed. “What?”  
Sablemane didn’t seem to like _talking_ , it seemed, but Crocbait stubbornly didn’t progress until he’d voiced his concern. “...I thought you’d need me on my front.”  
“With the chain it’s easier this way,” he explained. To demonstrate, he laid both hands on each of Sablemane’s hips - the chain draped easily across his stomach, not pulled taut - then moved one hand to cup shamelessly at Sablemane’s crotch through his robe. He had a cock, then; moderately sized, and it swelled to Crocbait’s touch just as Sablemane’s breath hitched and his expression flustered.

He leaned in to murmur against the man’s ear. “Wouldn’t be able to do _that_ if you were on your front.” And Sablemane _shuddered_. Good.

Crocbait moved his hands - this was a little more difficult - to pull Sablemane’s robes up clear of his legs. He kept his face close to his partner’s throughout, and sure enough, Sablemane wrapped his arms around his shoulders andcame up to kiss Crocbait firmly. Gently his lips worked against this strange man’s, letting him take the lead in the kiss if not elsewhere. Below their waists, Crocbait’s hand was busying itself with scoping out Sablemane’s arrangement, figuring out how it reacted to touch. He seemed to like having his length gripped relatively firmly, for example. And when Crocbait let his fingers slip down to press against his entrance, he felt no sudden tensing. No; Sablemane groaned under him, and opened up even to his shallow fingertip touches.

“Where’d that lube go,” Crocbait murmured, being met with another demanding kiss before getting his answer in the form of the bottle being shoved at his hand. He knelt up off the man so he could uncork it - even while he was slicking his fingers, Sablemane was wriggling back into position, straddling his legs either side of Crocbait’s hips. He didn’t know whether to interpret this as enthusiasm or mere impatience.

His fingers pressed against Sablemane’s entrance and, finally, with the extra lubrication, slipped inside. Sablemane fisted his hands in Crocbait’s hair and _groaned_ , and having it pulled like that certainly did Crocbait favours too - he had to bite his lip to stop a gasp escaping. He was careful, still - pressing one finger deep into him, then slipping another alongside it to stretch him out further, probing out the shape of him and hoping to find that one place that would please him the most.

But Sablemane wasn’t so sure about the slow pace. His hands dug into Crocbait’s shoulders as he squirmed into a better position on his lap. “I won’t _break_ ,” he said simply.  
“No? You done this before?”  
“More than you could comprehend,” came the answer, and despite Sablemane’s apparent inexperience when it came to topping, Crocbait somehow didn’t doubt him.

So fine, then. He stretched his fingers apart and Sablemane gave a growl which Crocbait somehow knew to be satisfied. Experimentally, he pulled his hand back, then slipped it back in fast. Sure enough, Sablemane gripped his shoulders tighter, let his jaw hang slack. Right.

“You want it like this?” he asked, repeating the gesture. “Or you want my cock?”  
“Of course I want your cock,” Sablemane snorted, though it sounded nowhere near as derisive as he’d probably intended it for how much arousal was addling his tone of voice.  
Crocbait breathed. “Right,” he said aloud this time. “Right. Sure your eyes aren’t bigger than your ass?”  
“ _Shut up_ ,” Sablemane growled again, and pulled Crocbait into an aggressive kiss. He got the feeling it was just to make him do as he was told; stop talking and get on with it. And honestly, Crocbait could live with being bossed around this way by his, uh. “Master”.

He chuckled into the kiss, but didn’t break it. No - he slipped his fingers out so he could use that hand to slick his cock, instead, bringing it back to full hardness in a matter of moments. With how Sablemane was kissing him, it wasn’t difficult - and how handsy he was getting, too, molten fingertips squirming their way to grasp impatiently at Crocbait’s shaft, hooking his knees around his hips to try and pull him _closer_ , get him _in_ \--

“Hey-- _hey_ ,” Crocbait had to say, breathing out deeply. “Seriously. Slow down.”  
Sablemane snorted impatiently, but he did reign his hands in, resting them on Crocbait’s hips instead. And that gave Crocbait enough space that he felt comfortable pushing into him.

Spirits. He didn’t get any cooler, did he? Crocbait grit his teeth as he pressed his tip slowly past the man’s ring, then breathed deep, in through his nose and out through his mouth, as he paused to add more lube. Sablemane, mercifully, was distracted by the new sensation - his head lolling back against the pillow, his hair all knotted up behind him, his brow furrowed in concentration and his mouth hanging open. So Crocbait got the time he needed to safely work himself into his unusual partner.

“Y’okay,” he asked once he was mostly in, barely able to form words against the sensation of such _tightness_ around him. Fuck, this always got to him, no matter how many times he did it.  
Sablemane nodded. Sablemane nodded a _lot_. And Crocbait was just about to tell him to set the pace - it was never safe for a man built like him to do so, not when he was the one penetrating - when Sablemane started to rock his hips down. Such little gestures, but there was an unmistakable desperation to them which had Crocbait’s heart pounding. Spirits--

And then even without Crocbait having anticipated it, Sablemane made a _noise_ and he was spilling himself all over the front of his robes. Rocking down, again and again, and each time more of his pearly seed was pooling in the recesses of his outfit. And then Crocbait looked up at Sablemane’s face--

\--and that was it for him. Seeing him so flushed, so caught up, hair sticking to his forehead and lips parted in orgasm - Crocbait crushed them into another kiss and came. _Hard_.

As he came down from it, he felt Sablemane’s hands coming up to tangle themselves in his hair again. They were softer, this time. Almost - _almost_ \- gentle. And Crocbait change the tempo of the kiss to match until the aftershocks had stopped going through the both of them. Then, he pulled away.

“Hope they got good dry-cleaning out here,” Crocbait quipped.  
And as if he’d been jerked back to reality, Sablemane suddenly started. His cheeks flushing cherry at something-or-other, he set his jaw. “It’s no concern of yours.”  
“Just as long as you don’t send Rehgar the bill. He’ll be pissed.”  
“Yes, yes.” Sablemane sighed, avoiding eye contact.

Crocbait frowned; he began to pull out now he’d started to soften. “You okay?”  
“Fine,” he snapped.

It was obvious to Crocbait that this was _not_ the case. He stood up off the bed, rubbing his sore wrists where they’d been chafed by the shackles, and walked over to what passed as a wash-basin. A glance back to the bed and... Sablemane had his head in his hands. Crocbait grimaced.

“That bad, huh,” he said, and he hadn’t meant to sound as hurt as it came out. So he added, “if it turns out that’s not your thing, then--”  
“Shut up!” He was rubbing his temples again, like before, and Crocbait gave him a bit of time and space - relieving himself and washing his cock in the meantime - before he moved back over and sat down, only about a foot away from him.

Client or not… this man had tried to help him. And he had been one of the first - in Crocbait’s long two years as a gladiator, he was one of only two people who had _genuinely_ tried to help him. And the only one who wasn’t on his arena team. He wanted to at least make sure he didn’t leave more harm on him than there’d been when he arrived.

Once Sablemane’s breathing had slowed a little, Crocbait looked back at him. And sensing less resistance to the idea of a conversation, he gave it a go. “Hey. What’s up?”  
“Nothing that concerns you,” he murmured. Far from his previously defensive, almost _arrogant_ tone, this seemed… Crocbait winced.  
“Seriously, you okay?”  
Sablemane turned his gaze to Crocbait, and it seemed like he was deciding whether to make another snark when his shoulders dropped. He simply covered his face with both hands and groaned.

Then he sighed into his hands, his hair slipping off his shoulder. “I had someone. Before; years ago. The only reason I’m still _in_ this wretched mountain-range is to seek answers about their death.”

Oh… Crocbait caught on. He must’ve caused a flashback. He was no stranger to how disorientating they could be; how much heartache they brought. And while he couldn’t remember specific faces, let alone names… he knew he’d had people who loved him before he’d gone missing; before he’d wound up Rehgar’s dancing gnoll, darting all about the sands to please the coin-purses of the world’s less morally concrete. He could sympathise.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Genuinely. And to his equally genuine gratefulness, Sablemane nodded slowly.  
“...thank you.”

Crocbait let the silence hang in the air for a while. Sablemane pressed his hands to his cheeks, then tidied his hair a little. Crocbait loosened his own hair, then tied it back up again. Then said, “want me to face the wall while you get yourself cleaned up?”  
“If you would,” Sablemane said.

So Crocbait did, and after a few moments, Sablemane joined him on the bed again this time. Clean robes; simpler ones. Meant for sleeping.  
Crocbait raised an eyebrow. “You’re okay with sharing a bed? Or you gonna chuck me out?”  
Sablemane gave him a withering stare, then simply climbed under the covers.

...right.

Crocbait took a deep breath, then joined him - silently hoping as he fell asleep, Sablemane’s arm draped loosely over his waist, that they’d get back to Rehgar’s _late_ the following morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Crocbait" is the name used throughout this story to refer to the entity otherwise known as Lo'gosh; who is one half of the individual called King Varian Wrynn. They were split in half by a magic spell, wiped of their memories, and separated.
> 
> Crocbait is the a name that one of these entities was given after he was taken captive by Rehgar Earthfury. At the time of the story, this is the only name that Crocbait is aware of referring to himself.
> 
> The later (and more famous) name used to refer to Crocbait, "Lo'gosh", wasn't given to him until his victory in Dire Maul (and his blessing by the wolf god Goldrinn... who, confusingly, also goes by Lo'gosh). This story is set before that, near the beginning of his time as a gladiator. So despite Lo'gosh being the more famous name for the character, it would be an anachronism to use it in this story.
> 
> Much later, Lo'gosh was re-fused with the other half of himself; they both became known together as King Wrynn. So for the matter of where Crocbait/Lo'gosh is today, he became one of King Wrynn's two personalities (the other being named simply "Varian").


End file.
